Interlude in Imladris
by RainShadow
Summary: For Sam, it was the way he said his name, his porcelain skin and knowing mind, that bound him to Frodo. ~slash~, Rivendell. Light always conquers Dark.


A/N: Takes place in Rivendell, and though I have read the books it is based on the movies. Slash, Frodo/Sam, because they're so cute and so obvious. Disclaimer: they're not mine, no money for me :(

=Interlude in Imladris=

This had just been one long hellish nightmare and Sam sometimes thought of the time when he might have ignored any raised voices, just made his way home, when the only consequences would have been a lecture from his Gaffer and a hangover. Of course, he couldn't keep away from Bag End, he always left as late as he could and arrived back in the morning as soon as was polite. There were reasons he was here-- reasons Samwise Gamgee wasn't proud of, even feared, but they were reasons nonetheless. Then he would banish these thoughts and try to chafe some warmth into the hand he was holding. It'd been days, Sam knew, and when the Wizard sent him away he didn't have the energy to resist-- besides he could tell by the way the Elven Lord looked at him that he was just getting in the way.

His head cleared with the light food and drink of the elves, lifting into some semblance of proper hobbit thought, except it wasn't, was it, when it was grief and worry that consumed him, when all he thought about when not dazed were ink-stained hands, porcelain skin so flawless and soft and a mind, a mind as lovely as the body, wise and warm and giving... Sam wanted that back, so desperately and the daze descended upon him again and he hurried back to the only thing that really mattered-

-Bless the elves and their medicine, bless them because he was there, awake and sitting up and looking warm. Sam couldn't contain himself, he rushed over and took Frodo's hand, feeling, reveling in, the warmth and Frodo's too-blue eyes were shining full force and the intensity always made Sam dizzy. This time he rejoiced in the dizziness, the warmth was back and he'd never let it go, he vowed to himself, and the way he sees it there won't be a need. The Shire was calling to him already and he couldn't wait to be home with the good earth and his good master and that was all Sam really needed.

Frodo said his name, said it like it was a pearl slipping off his lips, a gorgeous cry of "Sam!" and in his bliss Sam suddenly remembered the last words Mr. Frodo had spoken to him, said in such a different way---_"Oh Sam..."_ when the Morgul blade had bitten his beloved and even then it was a spell. Sam was trapped in this spell spun by a Baggins, except he really didn't mind that much and did it count as enchantment then?

The rest of the evening passed in a flurry of light and joy, food and song. He fell asleep next his Master and Bilbo, to the comforting lull of their speech. When he awoke he realized he'd lost his Master and went in search of him and finally found him, still with Mr. Bilbo. Sam stole him away- there was a council in the morning and Frodo needed sleep. They made their way back through the airy halls to Frodo's chamber, and Frodo yawned as he climbed into the big silken bed. He smiled softly and took Sam's hand. In his quiet, earnest voice, he said, "I want to thank you, Sam, for looking after me."

Sam blushed. "T'weren't no burden, Mr. Frodo." Frodo smiled again, and Sam reluctantly withdrew his hand. "Good night." he said, and went to the door. And then he stopped in the opening, looked left and then right.

"Sam?" Frodo asked with gentle concern, and Sam privately gloried in his intonation. The hobbit turned round, his face red with embarrassment.

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but it seems I've... forgotten where my room is, exactly. In fact... I'm not entirely sure I was _given_ a room." Frodo laughed and beckoned Sam to his side.

"You're welcome to stay with me, Master Samwise," he invited, pulling open the covers. Sam's eyes widened and without meaning to he reached out and grasped the soft sheets tightly.

"Are you sure, Mr. Frodo? I shouldn't, I'll keep you awake with my snoring, I will--"

"Sam. There's plenty of room and your snoring doesn't bother me. Come on," he said, grasping his arm and pulling him onto the mattress with him.

"All right then," Sam grumbled, loving the softness of the bed and the nearness of his Master. Frodo blew out the lantern and settled down next to Sam, and his warmth bled into Sam, making him whole, and in this way he fell asleep.

=

A soft knock on the door pulled Frodo out of his dreams and he sat up groggily. The door opened and Gandalf poked his head inside.

"Good morning, young Baggins," he said genially, and Frodo nodded in response and held a finger to his lips. The wizard's gaze strayed to the body curled up close to Frodo, and his bushy eyebrows rose.

"Shh," he whispered. "Sam's still asleep." and Gandalf nodded.

"The council will begin in a few minutes," he said, much softer this time.

"I'll be there." Gandalf nodded, and left. Frodo remained still for a few moments, then he bent down and softly kissed the sleeping hobbit's forehead. He slipped out of the warm bed and began to get ready for the council. Soon he was gone, and shortly after, Sam woke up. He hurriedly followed his Master to the Council of Elrond.

=

The door opened and Samwise slipped inside his Master's chambers. He shut the door, then leaned against it, eyes open but unseeing, his mind replaying the events of the council over and over again.

They weren't going home. They were going into the one place Sam had never dreamed he'd go, let alone volunteer. A strangled curse emerged from his throat as he threw himself upon the bed, angry at the invisible bond that connected him to his Master. 

Mordor. They were going to Mordor, and Frodo- his Master!- was bearing the wretched, gods-cursed Ring. Of course he had to go. He could never leave Frodo. But Mordor! And so it went on in a frustrating circle and finally ended when the Ring-bearer himself found Sam crying, his sniffling muffled by the sheets.

"Sam!" Frodo exclaimed in surprise, rushing over to him and placing a hand on his back. "What's the matter! Why are you so upset?"

Sam gasped and bit his lip, forcing himself to stop. When his breathing had become normal, he murmured, "It's nothing... I'm just sorry that we won't be seeing the Shire for some time now." Frodo pursed his lips and his eyes shone disbelief but he didn't press the hobbit. 

"You don't have to come, Sam." he said gently.

"Oh, no, Mr. Frodo, I'm going, nothing can stop me." _See, there you go Samwise Gamgee, making the Master feel bad,_ he thought disgustedly.

There was a pause, and then Frodo said slowly, "I know Sam. I'm scared too."

"It's just, it's the one place in the whole world, the one place I'd never thought I'd be going to... but if it's got to be done, well then," he said, heaving a sigh, "I'm here to help you, sir."

"Sam." He could hear the smile in Frodo's voice. Sam sighed again, and Frodo climbed on to the bed and slumped next to him. Sam nearly froze at the closeness, and then he felt tentative fingers curl around his hand. Warmth pulsed into him, making him feel like his body was a living crystal radiating white. Sam fell into the warmth and their two bodies seemed to be one, Frodo's breath hot on his cheek, their heads resting against each other. It was a shining moment of hope in the sky of despair that seemed to be suffocating them. They fought the darkness, two hobbits from the Shire making their own light.

"The Shadow does not hold sway yet, not over you, not over me," Frodo whispered suddenly in the gathering dark, and Sam nodded, not fully understanding but somehow knowing just the same. 

"Yes."

They lay back on the elvish bed far too big for them, encircled in each other's arms and in the light. Sam's fingers were splayed across Frodo's delicate features, rough fingers stroking down his jaw. There was no embarrassment, there was no wrong, there was only the light.

It began when Frodo pressed kisses across Sam's brow, small kisses like the brush of rose petals. Sam pulled him closer and Frodo's fingers found the buttons of his shirt and he discreetly undid them. Frodo shed his tunic and pressed himself into that warmth, curling and cleaving to the exposed skin as much as he could. Sam inhaled quickly, the ragged gasp catching in his throat, and his arms wrapped around the smaller body automatically.

"F-frodo!" Sam gasped in surprise, and then found he could not speak anymore because there were soft, hot lips on his own, they were kissing and it was so sugar-butter lovely that Sam melted, all his inhibitions evaporating in that one moment as he gave in to this Shireling, his Master, whose porcelain skin was silky against his own, whose normally ink-stained hands were dancing calligraphy across his body, and whose mind was shining like a star, chasing away the darkness to corners, mere shadows, where they lurked because in this overwhelmingly pure light they were utterly defenseless. And so they waited, but what they did not know was that while the light had seemingly left, Samwise Gamgee had only stored it inside himself, and the light, too, was waiting to break free once more. 

=End=

Hope you enjoyed that, it's my first full-blown LotR slash. I've also written a TTT preslash piece, "Good Sam", go check it out? Leave a review and me love you!

~RainShadow


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